


Setting Records

by e7r0chw3n



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure!Thomas, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pining!James, Pining!Thomas, Rated T for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17220029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e7r0chw3n/pseuds/e7r0chw3n
Summary: “So, I know you said you didn’t want to know what Hamilton and I argue about-“ Thomas began. “Still don’t,” James muttered. “BUT,” Thomas continued over his complaints. “I’m going to tell you anyways.”“Yay,” James said, in the most monotone voice he could muster.Thomas huffed. “Well, not everything. We don’t have time for that. But lately, he’s been insinuating that I am incapable of finding someone who can tolerate me for even a single date.” He stared at James as if expecting some sort of indignation on Thomas’s behalf. James stared back. “That is… patently correct, apparently,” James said slowly.“Besides the point,” Thomas brushed his concern away with a flourish. “And also, wrong. Because I have found someone who will go on- and most likely enjoy- a date with me.”James stared at him for another few seconds before it all clicked. “No,” he said firmly. “No, no, no, n-” Thomas grinned at him. “Oh, yes, sweetheart."After a series of record-breakingly bad dates (most of which were probably his fault), Thomas turns to his best friend to help him prove to Hamilton that he is capable of a successful date. What could go wrong? (Or, more importantly, what could go right?)





	Setting Records

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, everyone! This is my first fic from my own account, so it's a bit of a mess, but since I'm just playing around, I figured I'd do my part to address the appalling lack of content for this ship with a oneshot of fluffy pining. Hope you enjoy, and please feel free to leave any criticism or requests/ideas for future fics in the comments! I'd be thrilled to get some ideas on what to write next, and if I'm familiar with the ship and/or fandom, I'll give it a shot!
> 
> Have a great day, and enjoy! -E7

“A new record for you, isn’t it?” James said, checking his watch as the door slammed behind Thomas. Tossing his lurid suit jacket carelessly by the door, Thomas swanned by his roommate, pulling a scrunchie from his hair with a wince. 

“Yes, well, she was quite boring, really. And it’s hardly my fault that she had incorrect views on modern fashion, now is it?” he called over his shoulder as he vanished into his room. “Incorrect?” James asked after him, rolling his eyes before Thomas returned to be offended by his exasperation.

“Yes, incorrect,” he declared, joining James on their sofa, now wearing sweats and an oversized sweater. “And I heard you roll your eyes.” James flicked him between the eyes, chuckling as Thomas spluttered. As Thomas made a valiant attempt to prolong his dramatics as long as possible, James narrowed his eyes at him, crossing his arms.

“Is that my sweater?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at Thomas, who sighed. “James, Mads, my dearest, oldest friend, would you deny me this singular comfort after I’ve had my heart broken yet again?” he asked, pouting and batting his eyelashes.

“Yes, because you had your heart broken by a girl who you’ve been on one date with? One…” James paused, checking his watch again. “One ten minute long date?”

Thomas didn’t even have the good grace to look sheepish. “Like I said, darlin’, she was incorrect. Someone had to educate her,” he told James, sprawling across the couch and flopping his head full of curls onto James’s lap. “Now comfort me.”

James sighed again, feigning reluctance as he began running his hands through his best friend’s hair. “What exactly did she say that prompted you to leave before I even had the chance to text you to remind you not to get banned from any more restaurants? Speaking of which…”

Thomas waved a hand in the general vicinity of James’s face. “I didn’t get banned, and I didn’t leave,” he defended himself. James raised an eyebrow at him. Thomas smirked. “She left.” James rolled his eyes and tugged on one of Thomas’s curls, prompting a hiss. “Ouch!”

“Thomas, seriously. You’ve been on a dozen dates in the past month, and your longest one was barely an hour, and that was only because you had to drive your date to the E.R.!” Thomas sat bolt upright, jerking James’s hand out of his hair and jabbing a finger in his face.

“Alexander. Hamilton. Who the HELL thought it would be a good idea to set us up on a date?!”he whined. “Seriously!?”

James shrugged, shoving Thomas off of his lap. “I don’t know, it seemed to work out pretty well after y’all punched the shit out of each other. Don’t look at me like that. Yes, I know. You do know the walls on this place are pretty thin, right?”

Thomas looked scandalized. “James Madison, what are you implying right now?!” James laughed at the affronted look on his face, scrambling up from the couch and raising his voice so Thomas could hear him from the kitchen as he gathered a handful of snacks.

“I wasn’t implying anything indecent-at least I don’t think I was-, so relax. I can hear you arguing with him in the middle of the night over… well, I don’t really know, and I don’t want to know, but I do believe that you’re both emotionally stunted enough for that to be considered a relatively normal…friendship, thing.”

Thomas still looked shocked, but he seemed mollified by the chocolate James tossed into his lap upon his return. “I deny all allegations of a… friendship… with that absolute heathen, but I accept this apology chocolate,” he mumbled around a mouthful. James shook his head in exasperation. “You know, Thomas, this is part of why the only person who can tolerate you is me.”

Thomas made a humming noise of assent, then sat bolt upright once more, earning a sharp bap to the head from James. “You,” he said, pointing a slightly melted piece of chocolate, still halfway encased in the wrapper, at him, “are a genius.” He then slouched back down on the couch cushion and popped the chocolate into his mouth.

James glared at him. “Thomas, explain yourself. And this idea better not have any risk of getting you or me banned from another restaurant.” Thomas laughed obnoxiously. “Will you let it go, James? One restaurant!”

James scowled. “My favorite one,” he mumbled under his breath as his best friend continued to gesture grandiosely and proclaim his idea loudly.

“So, I know you said you didn’t want to know what Hamilton and I argue about-“ he began. “Still don’t,” James muttered. “BUT,” Thomas continued over his complaints. “I’m going to tell you anyways.”

“Yay,” James said, in the most monotone voice he could muster.

Thomas huffed. “Well, not everything. We don’t have time for that. But lately, he’s been insinuating that I am incapable of finding someone who can tolerate me for even a single date.”

He stared at James as if expecting some sort of indignation on Thomas’s behalf. James stared back. “That is… patently correct, apparently,” James said slowly.

“Besides the point,” Thomas brushed his concern away with a flourish. “And also, wrong. Because I have found someone who will go on- and most likely enjoy- a date with me.”

James stared at him for another few seconds before it all clicked. “No,” he said firmly. “No, no, no, n-” Thomas grinned at him. “Oh, yes, sweetheart,” he told James, blowing him a kiss.

“You. Me. That cute little Italian place you like so much, tomorrow after you get out of whatever American Literaturey doo da classy ma bop you have.”

With that, Thomas patted James’s head, booped his nose, and dashed away to his room, giggling a bit manically. James sat in stunned silence for a couple of seconds, then scowled angrily. “No, Thomas, we can’t!” he called.

“Why not?” Thomas shot back immediately, his voice muffled slightly by the walls. James shook his head.

“BECAUSE YOU GOT US BOTH BANNED, YOU DUMBASS!” Silence. “Oh. Right.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mads!” Thomas exclaimed as James pushed through the doors of the English building, pausing at the top of the stairs as he took in the sight of Thomas, dressed in dark skinny jeans and a plain black T-shirt, a flannel button down tied around his waist and a bundle of roses in his hand.

“What,” James said flatly, still frozen on the top of the staircase. Thomas jogged up to him, taking the steps two at a time, and bowed, presenting the flowers with a flourish. “I’m here to escort you to our date, honey,” Thomas drawled, smiling up at James.

James pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, closing his eyes and grimacing. “Okay. Alright. Let’s go,” he said, batting the roses away and hooking his arm through Thomas’s so he could drag him down the stairs.

Thomas frowned, stumbling after him. “You don’t like the roses?” he asked, looking dejected. James glanced at his face, his resolve crumbling a bit. After all, the flowers really were sweet, and although Thomas was a bit over the top about… well, everything, he meant well.

“The flowers are fine, Thomas. I’m just hungry. Let’s go,” James said, tugging him closer with their still linked arms. Thomas smiled widely, although he still looked a little wrong-footed. “Well then, Jemmy-James, we can certainly fix that. Right this way!” he called, reluctantly unlinking their arms and pulling open the door to the café, holding it for James.

James smiled as he walked through the door, a small, sweet smile which had Thomas doing a mental victory dance. He was soooo going to show Hamilton.  
As soon as James had slipped through the door, Thomas swept in after him hurriedly, catching his arm and looping it through his own as he led him to one of the more secluded tables, hidden away in a back corner of the buzzing café.

“So, what exactly does this date entail?” James asked Thomas as he pulled his arm loose once more and tossed his book bag to the floor. Thomas shrugged. “Because I am in definite need of some chamomile,” James continued. Thomas sprang out of the wicker chair he had just settled himself into. “Your wish is my command, darlin’! Anything else? You want a pastry or anything?” he asked, pulling his hair up into a sloppy ponytail, riotous curls flying in every direction still.

Now it was James’s turn to shrug. “I guess… surprise me. You know what I like,” he said, slumping down in his own chair and digging into his book bag. “I’m gonna try to get some reading done while you go order.” Thomas flashed him a thumbs up and winked theatrically at him, laughing at James’s put upon expression.

As he stepped into the fairly short line, Thomas heard a familiar, obnoxiously loud laugh sound behind him as the door opened and closed again. He grinned, sensing a stroke of luck, and turned around to see none other than Hamilton himself, laughing raucously with his hands wrapped around the arm of an adorably freckled boy who was blushing furiously at whatever had Hamilton so amused.

Thomas waved at Hamilton and his friend, smirking in the way he knew rubbed Hamilton the wrong way. Sure enough, as he turned and caught sight of Jefferson, Hamilton’s amusement faded quickly. He scowled. “Jefferson,” he hissed at him.

“Hamilton,” Thomas returned, as flatly as possible. The freckled boy beside Hamilton raised an eyebrow, glancing between them both. Hamilton glimpsed his confusion and huffed. “John, this is Thomas Jefferson. My archnemesis,” he explained. Thomas’s smirk grew wider as he placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “Aw, dearie, you flatter me,” he simpered, enjoying the way Hamilton’s scowl deepened.

 

“Jefferson?” Hamilton’s friend- John- asked. “So, the one you say is your archnemesis who you actually don’t ha-” His words were muffled by the palm Hamilton quickly placed over his mouth. “John! Shut up!” Hamilton growled. 

 

Thomas just laughed. “Lovely as always to see you, Hamilton,” he commented dryly, grinning at the deep red staining Hamilton’s cheeks before turning to the counter, which he had reached at last.

 

“Uh, one mocha frappe, largest size you’ve got, and a chamomile tea, please. Biggest size on that, too. Oh, and can I get a couple of kolaches… yeah, let’s have two strawberries and… hmm… two croissants, please, and a cheese Danish, and… are those cinnamon rolls? Four of those, please!” he told the bemused looking girl behind the counter.

 

“Will that be all, sir?” she asked, looking a bit too judgmental for Thomas’s tastes. “I do believe so,” he told her before turning back to Hamilton, who looked incredulous. 

“What?!” Thomas asked defensively. Hamilton flailed his arm, gesturing wildly at both Thomas and the bakery counter. “I know you’re freakishly tall, but that’s… a lot,” he finished weakly.

 

Thomas frowned, stepping away from the counter slightly so John could order. “I thought it was obvious. I’m here on a date,” he told Hamilton, who looked dubious.

 

“You,” he said flatly. “On a date. Here. Without some violently colorful suit jacket on, or some obscenely expensive shoes. And also, still here, and not at the emergency room.”

 

Thomas furrowed his brow. “Okay, first of all, you were the reason I was at the emergency room. Because your dumbass self tried to punch me, missed, and punched a table and damn near broke your hand.”

 

Hamilton made a noise which sounded suspiciously like a cat hissing and again blushed bright red. Beside him, John laughed nearly as loudly as Hamilton had been laughing when they entered the café, clapping Alex’s shoulder and giggling hysterically until he was wheezing. Hamilton glared at John.

 

“Shut up,” he said finally. “Besides, that was the best of your dates lately. You’re not exactly in a position to talk.” Thomas grinned at him. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, dear. I’m here on the best date of my life,” he told Hamilton with a wink.

 

Hamilton scoffed. “With who? Yourself?” He snorted. Thomas raised an eyebrow at him. “I know I was the best date of your life, honey, but no. I’m here with my darlin’.” He waved to James, blowing him a kiss. James glanced up and rolled his eyes, waving back halfheartedly.

 

Hamilton gaped at him. Just then, the café worker slid two cups and a full bag of food across the counter to Thomas, who thanked her and picked it up. 

He waved at Thomas and John, who was somehow both snickering and gazing with somewhat sickening adoration at Hamilton before heading back to his seat and plopping the bag of food on the table beside James.

 

James tugged his earbuds out and greedily grabbed the cup of tea out of Thomas’s hand, inhaling deeply and taking a sip, sighing contentedly. Thomas delved into the bag, setting up the veritable feast on the table and beginning to dig in.

 

“How was your inferior literature class?” Thomas asked, smirking when James glared at him. “I’m sorry, did I mispronounce that? I meant American literature.” 

 

James reached across the table to tug at Thomas’s curls lightly. “Don’t be elitist. It was fairly decent. We talked about John Knowles,” he said with a smile.

 

Thomas squinted for a moment, biting off a generous piece of cinnamon roll. “Is that the one who wrote that book with the pining gays at boarding school?” he asked, his question somewhat muffled by the mouthful of roll. 

 

James laughed. “That’s the one. A Separate Peace. It was… an interesting discussion,” he said, pausing to grimace and take a bite of kolache.

 

“Thomas, just how hungry did you think I was?” James said after a companionable silence, during which Thomas polished off his cinnamon roll and began tearing into a kolache. He paused at James’s question. 

 

“You think this is all for you?” he asked, setting the small piece of kolache he hadn’t yet eaten on a napkin and sliding it over to James before snatching all of the other pastries.

 

James laughed and popped the kolache in his mouth, then leaned across the table and swiped at a croissant. Thomas hissed and pulled the pastries closer to his body, guarding them with one arm and reaching out to bap James’s head lightly. “Away, heathen! Away! Mine!”

 

James just laughed again, jabbing at Thomas’s arms and, when that failed, tugging on his hair, amused by the annoyed and yet hopelessly amused faces Thomas made in response. “Ya know,” James said, after he managed to tug a corner off of the croissant pop it in his mouth, only to have his cup of tea stolen and swept into Thomas’s hoard of breakfast, “I think this may be why your other dates end so early.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Thomas asked, before slapping at James’s hand viciously as he attempted to reclaim his tea. “I’ve been a perfect gentleman. You can’t seriously expect me to give up my food!” James made a few more futile attempts to grab his tea, then threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine! Keep your food! Just give me my tea!”

 

Thomas paused, feigning deliberation. “Hm… and what will I get in return?” he asked. James huffed in apparent frustration, but he couldn’t hide his smile. “The rest of this ‘date’,” he said dryly, making air quotes around his face as he said the word. Thomas rolled his eyes.

 

“You’re no fun,” he told him, sliding the tea back across the table to James and passing a few of the pastries back with a smile. James smiled back graciously and sipped his tea again before responding. “On the contrary. I’m tons of fun. Besides,” he added, picking up a cinnamon roll. “I’m the only one who can tolerate you, remember?”

 

Thomas smiled back, feeling something warm and tingly bubbling up through his chest- which, on one hand, what the hell, but on the other hand, what else had he expected from a date with his best friend? 

 

James really was tons of fun. Nobody else got Thomas like he did. Nobody else was the perfect blend of sweet and serious and sarcastic like he was. Really, who else would put up with Thomas besides him?

 

“Hey,” James said softly, jolting Thomas out of his thoughts. “Where’d you go?” Thomas shook his head slightly and then flashed James a blinding but insincere grin. “Nowhere, darlin’, I’ve been right here,” he said. The corner of James’s mouth quirked down.

 

“Thomas, you’re awesome. You know that, right?” he said, his voice gentle and painfully earnest. His deep brown eyes were doing things to Thomas’s heart, swirling up those warm bubbles again past the point of quashing, so Thomas looked down at the table. “Course, Madsy. I’m the best, I know.”

 

“Yeah, you are,” James said with a low laugh (definitely not helping the not-butterflies). “I know that face. That’s your ‘my inferiority complex is winning out over the superiority complex front I put on to hide it’ face.” Thomas scowled. Who gave this man the right to know him so well?

 

“Don’t scowl at me, Thomas, I’ve known you for almost a decade now. Of course I know your insecurity face. It’s completely unfounded, you know. You really are the best.” Thomas shrugged a shoulder, finally letting go of the pretense. “Glad you think so.”

 

James looked at him hard for a moment. Thomas could feel the force of his gaze even as he stared intently at the table. Abruptly, James pushed his chair back and stood up, beginning to stuff the remaining food into the bag. 

 

“Where ya headed, James?” Thomas asked, chuckling nervously. “This was all set to be my longest date so far.”

 

James looked positively murderous for a moment, and Thomas was suddenly worried that’s what this was all about. James had suddenly figured out about Thomas’s not-butterflies which were, now that he rethought the past eight years, were not so sudden onset. God, Thomas was an idiot. Oh God, James knew, he’d never speak to him again, he’d move out, he was-

 

“Thomas!’ James called, gently shaking Thomas’s shoulder as he said it to jolt him out of his panicky reverie. “Let’s go.” Thomas blinked rapidly a few times, still disconcerted but somewhat comforted by the hand on his shoulder, as it at least meant James didn’t feel too uncomfortable around him. 

 

“Where?” he asked, picking up his coffee cup and dumping it in a trash can as James led him out of the restaurant. He definitely didn’t need any more caffeine.

 

James looked at him again, his eyes a little sad. “Our dorm, where else? You didn’t look like you wanted to be around people anymore, and I never really want to be around people other than you, so…” he trailed off, eyes now darting away from Thomas.

 

“Thanks,” Thomas said, relieved that maybe James didn’t know after all, although inwardly he was cursing whatever higher power there may have been for James Madison’s unique and dastardly gift at making Thomas Jefferson feel like a teenage schoolgirl with a crush. (Which he basically was, apparently, but besides the point.)

 

He took it fairly in stride when James once more looped their arms together for the rest of the walk back, which, once more, what the hell? They’d done that hundreds of times- why was it suddenly the single most nerve wracking thing that had ever happened to Thomas?

 

He didn’t even realize they were standing outside the door to their dorm until James unlocked it and shoved him lightly through the doorway, following close behind him. “Thomas,” he said. “Breathe, please.” Thomas tried his best to comply, but his chest felt painfully tight, and his mind was racing. He felt as if he was on the edge of a panic attack.

 

James spoke up again. “Talk to me, please. You’re worryingly quiet.” Thomas shook his head, knowing that if he opened his mouth he would word vomit up all of these alarming new realizations and scare James away forever and-

 

“Thoma-“ James began, before being cut off.

 

“I’m quite possibly the biggest idiot alive because I’ve been on more unsuccessful dates than a Trump supporter on Grindr and I’ve been thinking it was because I have horrible taste but apparently it’s because I have the best taste and I have a c- wait, no, shit, this is serious, I’m in love, oh shit I’m in love wi-”

 

Now it was Thomas’s turn to be interrupted. “Look, I’m sorry, I just. I don’t think I can talk about this with you. Not right now. I’m sorry Thomas, I know I’m a shitty friend, but…” James inhaled sharply, sounding suspiciously snuffly, and although Thomas may have been having a crisis first, when James was crying, it was a primal instinct of his to comfort him.

 

He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, though, so he settled for a loose side hug, rubbing James’s back lightly as he spoke to him again. “No, no, don’t cry Mads, look, I’m sure I’ll get over it eventually. Everything can go back to normal, we don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

 

James sniffed loudly and looked up at Thomas, alarm in his wet eyes. “No! No, Thomas, you deserve to be happy,” he said, his voice rough. Thomas felt the not-butterflies die down, drowned by a wave of sadness. Look what you’ve done, he told them. “Not if it makes you this upset, James. It’s okay. Let’s just… pretend it never happened.”

 

James shook his head. “That’s not fair to you.” Thomas smiled sadly. “And pushing any further wouldn’t be fair to you. You’re not a shitty friend, James. You’re awesome. You’re sweet, and funny, and brilliant, and handsome, and… I’m talking about. I’ll shut up, really, I’m sorry, I’ll just-” Thomas babbled, drawing his arm back from around James’s shoulders and moving to get up.

 

“Wait.” James’s voice, suddenly steady again, froze him in place. “Talking about… what exactly?” Thomas blushed, looking at the ground, then up to the ceiling, begging a higher power for a release from this hell. “Me. Having- er, being in love with…” he hesitated.

 

“With Alexander?” James asked, sounding unsure. Thomas’s jaw dropped. “Whaaaaat?” he asked, eyes widening in what would have, in a less serious moment, been a comedic fashion. The not- fine, screw it, the damn butterflies were back full force.

 

James tried again. “We’re… we’re not talking about you being in love with Hamilton?” Thomas swore his brain had never worked so hard in its life- and he was an engineering/poly sci double major, for God’s sake! “I am not, have never been, and will never be in love with Alexander Hamilton,” he told James with absolute certainty.

 

“But… the phone calls? And when you were talking at the café?” James asked, sounding less and less sure of himself which each passing second. Thomas tugged on his hair hard, pulling most of it out of its ponytail holder, then threw his hands in the air.

 

“I don’t know how you reached that conclusion, but then again, I can’t exactly call you stupid, because my dumb ass is just now catching up with the fact that I’m apparently in love with my best friend and have been for a while and oh God this has not been a very platonic friendship for a very long time what the hell and-“

 

“WHAT IS GOING ON?!” James shouted. “I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA!” Thomas yelled back. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH?” James asked, looking frantic. “WE’RE BOTH IDIOTS, OH MY GOD, IT’S YOU, JAMES MADISON! I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU!”

 

They both froze, breathing heavily on the couch, staring at each other. James spoke first, in a voice that was absurdly tiny coming from such a huge man. “Me?’ he asked. Thomas ripped his hand through his hair, breathing deeply. “Yes, you. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about it.”

 

“I didn’t want to talk about it,” James said, leaning towards Thomas, an indecipherable look in his eyes, “because I thought you were in love with Hamilton.” Thomas tried desperately and failed pathetically at keeping the butterflies wrangled as James continued to lean closer. “Thomas Freaking Jefferson,” he continued. “Not actually my middle name,” Thomas muttered, but he was ignored.

 

“Thomas Jefferson,” James went on, before pausing again. “Damn, this is hard.” Thomas looked up at the ceiling once more. “I give up. I no longer know what life is and I… James,” Thomas broke off, addressing his best friend who was currently hovering about three inches away from Thomas. “James, you are making butterfly wrangling very hard.” And yep, it was official, Thomas had lost it.

 

“Thomas,” James breathed. “Thomas, may I…” He reached up between them, cupping Thomas’s face in his hand and brushing his thumb over Thomas’s lips. Thomas shuddered, and, oddly enough, felt the butterflies melt away once more, replaced by a contented warmth spreading through his body and buzzing into his brain like a quiet melody.

 

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he responded quietly, cradling James’s head in his hands and gently, ever-so-gently pressing their lips together. They stayed like that for moment, lips touching, before they both melted into the contact, arms coming to wrap around each other with the familiarity of a decade of closeness, James leaning his forehead onto Thomas’s and brushing back errant curls, Thomas reveling in the quiet, in the way he could almost hear James’s heart beating in tandem with his, pulses still quickened but slowing with every passing second.

 

“Not in love with Hamilton,” James murmured. “Not in love with Hamilton,” Thomas agreed. James wound his fingers into Thomas’s hair, pulling him down for another quick, soft kiss. “I love you,” he said, kissing the tip of Thomas’s nose adoringly. “I’m in love with you,” he told him wonderingly, his other arm coming to wrap more tightly around Thomas’s torso. “You’re the best,” he repeated, before launching a battery of chaste kisses on Thomas’s skin, which he responded to by giggling happily. Thomas really ought to have been ashamed, but he couldn’t bring himself to be.

 

“I love you,” he said, catching his breath in between kisses, and Thomas seized the opportunity to begin his own kiss-attack on James, only pausing to say, “As you should,” with another giggle. James laughed too, and soon they were both reclined on the couch, James atop Thomas, cradled in his arms, his face buried in Thomas’s neck and his hands in Thomas’s hair.

 

James began to kiss lightly down Thomas’s neck, prompting light shivers. “You’re so beautiful. So sexy,” he whispered. “I knew there was a reason you put up with me,” Thomas joked.

 

James extricated himself slightly from Thomas’s arms, propping himself up on his chest. “I put up with you because you’re kind, even if you pretend like you’re not sometimes. You’re brilliant. You’re vivacious. You’re strong. You’re funny. You make terrible Star Wars puns and snuggle with me when I’m sad. You-” Thomas placed a finger to his lips.

 

“Darlin’, much as I love to hear you tell me how wonderful I am- and I’m not being sarcastic, I love it,” he said softly. “I think we’re both a little emotionally exhausted right now. Keep on kissin’ me, by all means, but I’d rather us hold off on anything else physical. Or emotional. Just snuggling and kissing and bad puns.” 

 

James nodded. “Just- I just wanted to say… I’m sorry for acting strange back there. It just made me angry, all those people who were lucky enough to get to go on a date with you and repaid it by making you feel like shit. And for being so irrational. About Alexander, I mean. I just… I couldn’t stand to think I’d missed my shot at you,” he said.

 

Thomas smiled. “We were both pretty irrational, babe. Besides, I don’t know what I’d have done if I thought you were telling me you were in love with someone else. After I realized I was in love with you, of course.” He frowned. “When did you realize that?” he asked, worried the answer would be “years”.

 

“When you fake asked me out. I thought, ‘You know, if it weren’t for the fact that I don’t feel that way about him, I’d be pretty excited about this date.’ Then I realized I was pretty excited about our date,” James replied, smiling sheepishly. “Oh, thank God,” Thomas murmured.

 

James shifted, turning over on Thomas’s lap so he could grab his laptop and boot it up, setting it on the table where they could both see it and he could reach it easily. “Now. Enough emotions. What do we wanna watch as we practice upping our cuddling game from best friends to boyfriends?” he asked, before turning bright red. “I mean… that is, assuming we are, er…”

 

Thomas kissed his cheek. “If you’ll have me, darlin’,” he murmured. James nodded, grinning as widely as Thomas had ever seen him grin, which of course merited a few more kisses. “Finding Nemo?” he asked, when he was done (for the moment).

 

“Oh my God, no, I take it back, you’re fired. I’ve already cried once tonight!” James scolded. Thomas laughed. “I propose… the Office,” James said, after some deliberation. Thomas waggled his eyebrows. “A proposal? Moving a little fast, aren’t we?” he asked. James rolled his eyes. “I think it’d be a new record,” he said, smiling slyly.

 

“Speaking of records,” Thomas said, grabbing his phone and sliding the camera open. “I need to prove to Hamilton, whom I am not in love with, that I just broke mine.” He nudged James, who sighed but gamely looked at the camera and smiled. Just before he snapped the photo, Thomas snuck a kiss to the corner of James’s mouth.

 

“Awwwwe!” he exclaimed upon looking at the resulting picture. “I’m keeping this, I’m framing it, I love it,” he told James, who looked it over skeptically before giving in. “Send it to me, too,” he said defeatedly, overcome by the adorableness that was James Madison, curled up atop Thomas Jefferson, beaming like a little kid as Thomas gazed up at him adoringly, curls mussed from James’s apparent obsession with them.

To: Never Shuts Up  
Longest date to date, so ha. Also the best, #couplegoals #myboyfriendisbetterthanyours-ohwait,youdon’thaveone,doyou,soha! (7:36 p.m.)

Before he could toss his phone back onto the table, however, it buzzed. Thomas slid it open, definitely not expecting to be greeted with a picture of John from the coffee shop kissing a blushing Alex’s cheek.

From: Never Shuts Up  
Don’t be so sure, JEFFERSON. (7.38 p.m.)  
From: Never Shuts Up  
But… congrats, I guess. (7:39 p.m.)


End file.
